Reluctance

Now that it is nearly time to go, Granddad isn't sure he really is ready.

 He likes the nursing home.

 He likes his room, even with his talkative roommate.

 He really likes the food - meat at every meal!

 He likes his afternoon cup of coffee by the fire.

 He likes roaming the halls and looking at the art work.

 He likes looking out the windows.

 He likes the way they take care of him.

 He's even fond of therapy:  "Oh they work me hard!" he says.

And he loves having a whole staff to take care of him.

He's going to miss all this when he comes home!

The overdue haircut

Before the haircut....

things were somewhat shaggy.

Afterwards...

a bit more gray.

Go Buy a Book

I have been reading this wonderful book, " The Yellow-Lighted Bookshop: a memoir, a history" by Lewis Buzbee.  He gives you a bit of philosophy, a bit of cultural history, a bit of insight into a profession very similar to librarianship, a lot of historical background, and a great suggestion that every citizen serve a mandatory two-year stint in retail.  (Apparently bookstores have some of the same trying patrons as libraries.)   There's a marvelous metaphor of the bookstore as city.  There's passionate writing about the books of childhood that make us readers:

"It's a common story; fill in your own blanks: I was ____years old when I happened on a novel called ______ and within six months I had read every other book by the writer know as_____.

I was fifteen.  The Grapes of Wrath. John Steinbeck."

I found myself wanting to quote huge parts of it in this post - much of it as pertinent to libraries and librarians as it is to booksellers and bookstores.   Instead, I believe I'll just suggest that you read it... and enjoy this video of a bookstore after hours:

Here's hoping you all have something great to read right now.

When you know it's over

 What marks the end of a holiday?

Is it when the last of the holiday company leaves?



Is it when the Christmas CDs go back in their drawer and the house is silent?

Is it when the new German ornaments are wrapped up and tucked in their box and the tiny tree is carried downstairs to store until next year?


Each of those things felt like an ending.

But it was today that I decided that the holiday was officially over.  Why was that?  Today I ate the last of the holiday goodies. It was the Christmas fudge that the Indy Duo made.

The brownies and bars were long gone.  The buckeyes barely made it to New Year's.  The fruitcake disappeared in gummy chunks.  The cookies were shared and the spice tea was sipped.  But the fudge - there was a whole pan of fudge - the fudge I cut into little squares and rationed out in plastic bags.  I slipped the bags in the vegetable drawer behind the head of lettuce.  Every day when I took a break from sitting with Granddad I pulled out a bag and enjoyed my four squares of sugary chocolate.  The fudge lasted longer than anything else...and now that it is gone I truly feel the holiday is over!

Winter-Time

Late lies the wintry sun a-bed, 

A frosty, fiery sleepy-head;

Blinks but an hour or two; and then,

 A blood-red orange, sets again.

 Before the stars have left the skies, 

At morning in the dark I rise; 

And shivering in my nakedness, 

By the cold candle, bathe and dress. 

 Close by the jolly fire I sit 

To warm my frozen bones a bit; 

Or with a reindeer-sled, explore 

The colder countries round the door. 

 When to go out, my nurse doth wrap 

Me in my comforter and cap; 

The cold wind burns my face, and blows 

Its frosty pepper up my nose.

 Black are my steps on silver sod; 

Thick blows my frosty breath abroad; 

And tree and house, and hill and lake, 

Are frosted like a wedding-cake.

Robert Louis Stevenson (from A Child’s Garden of Verses, 1885) 

Here's a Cloodle

 Factoid:

Gather together all your Creative Cats....

Data Heads....

 Word Worms...

and Star Performers,


and you don't have to use your Cranium to know that you'll have a Humdinger of a time.